


godspeed, glory

by smads



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Established fuckbuddies, I will, I will make them all cry, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Tav has Daddy Issues TM, Tavi is an angry drunk and you cannot convince me otherwise, Vomiting, bartender elliott witt, canon is for sissies, i swear to you, mentioned self harm, referenced past self harm, there are heavy implied drug withdrawal mentions, well actually no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smads/pseuds/smads
Summary: There will be mountains you won't move.Elliott is a high Octavio isn't sure he wants to come down from.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in s5, when Octane gets attacked by prowlers in the quest.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It had been Elliott's turn to sit with him after his prowler attack last season, hunting down that shit for Loba. He insisted on taking Ajay's place, swearing he knew enough to get him through at least a few hours from what he'd learned from his mom being sick. She was hesitant, but eventually fell asleep on the couch in the next room while Elliott kept a watchful eye on him: his vitals, his chest rising and falling, the way he twitched every so often. It was going well. Until he had a nightmare. 

Same one as always. Something, or someone, was chasing him. But he couldn't run. Couldn't stim. Couldn't move. They stalked toward him, a formless, voidlike creature, whispering things his dad used to say. Calling him a fuck-up, or reminding him that he was why his parents' marriage didn't work out. His mother's voice, taunting him that if he kept his bullshit up, nobody would love him. His father's hand around his neck. 

His father's hand around his neck. 

The scars on his arms seared, an everlasting reminder of how painful it all was, underneath his tattoos. And then, he'd felt himself shaking. Shit. He sat up, groaning from the change of position and because everything fucking hurt. And there was Elliott, all worried hands and eyes flooded with concern. It was the first time he had really, truly looked at the man. 

"Oh, thank god you're awake. Holy hell, Tav, I thought you were dying."

He lurched to the side, vomiting onto the floor and coughing violently. Well, that was fucking embarrassing. Elliott moved to clean him up, wiping a damp rag on his face before moving to clean the floor. Shit. He realized he was still shaking, and that somehow, his bile soaked grand re-entrance back into the mortal plane hadn't scared Elliott off. In fact, his free hand was massaging slow circles into Tav's back. 

"Are you okay?"

"I've had better days. Prowler, eh?" He gestured vaguely to his wounds, wincing.

"Yeah," Elliott reached for a bottle of water, "don't try to move. If you pop a stitch Ajay will probably kill us both." 

He smiled. Tav hadn't realized how nice Elliott's smile was before. Not from this close. He was sweating profusely and happily downed the water. He truly felt like death personified. His arms, abdomen, and hair ached. He could still feel long, angry claws being swiped across his body. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and Elliott's hand was on him again. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force back already forming tears as he started to lean backwards onto the pillow. Elliott eased him back, hand on the back of his neck. 

"Why are you here, anyway? I would've thought Che would have me on lockdown."

Elliott laughed, "she sort of does. She's barely slept. I told her to take a break. A couple of us have been rotating through so she can get some rest. She really cares about you, Octavio." This was partially a lie. It had been mostly him checking in on Tavi. 

"She's got a stupid way of showing it sometimes," he scoffed, "but thank you. H-how long have I been out?"

He hadn't noticed, but Elliott was holding his hand. He thought about pulling away, but Elliott had started rubbing lazy circles into the back of his hand with his thumb, and damn did it feel nice. He was as touch starved as any of them, he supposed. He hadn't gotten much action since joining the games, always running from place to place, event to event, game to game. It's not that he hadn't tried. He picked up a girl at Elliott's bar once, and had flirted with Elliott himself many times. Their in-ring banter dynamics were a sponsor and fan favorite and only he knew how much of it was his own longing. There was very little time to be with anyone but yourself in the shower whenever you had a free moment. Several times, he had let his mind wander to Elliott, imagined it was his hand doing the work. He wasn't sure where the crush had come from. He'd only been with a man one other time, and he had never seen Elliott with a man, so he figured it was fruitless. Even still, 

"About a week." He said softly. 

"Fuck." 

"'S'okay. We've been taking care of you," Elliott flashed that damned smile again and he blushed. 

"Thanks. Is everyone else okay?"

Even he was surprised that came out of his mouth. He was notoriously self-centered, at least the part of him he let anyone else see was. Octane was. Octavio, though? Not so much. He almost, somewhere buried deeply beneath stunts and horrible coping mechanisms and trauma, cared too much. Loved too hard. But Octane was easier. Daredevil, drug addict, don't-give-a-fuck-about-no-bitch Octane. He sighed.

"Yeah, everyone else is fine. You got the artifact. Still don't know what the fuck this is all about, and Ajay is pissed at Anita, but yeah. We're good."

"She shouldn't be pissed at Anita," he started weakly, "it's my fault. If I hadn't been so determined to avenge Nat, and hadn't run into a nest of prowlers like a fucking idiot we wouldn't be here. It's my fault." He repeated the last part a couple times before realizing he had started tearing up. He palmed at his face, praying Elliott hadn't seen.

"Hey," Elliott shifted, bringing his hand to the smaller man's face, turning him to look in his eyes. He hadn't ever really seen Octavio without a mask before. None of them had. He was handsome, he thought. Green rimmed eyes that were a stormy grey in the very center, barely noticeable around his pupils, likely tainted by the stim. His hair was black except for where it was his signature electric green. He had a lot of scarring on his face, but most prominent was the one vertically across his right cheek, purpler and deeper than all the others. Elliott ran his rough fingers over it, "I'm just--I mean, we're all just glad you're okay." 

He had been staring for too long. It had to be weird, right? He felt like Elliott could he read his mind, like he knew every thought he had ever had about the man, the way he was looking at him. So grateful and deeply kind and hungry. And then, he swore Elliott leaned forward. He swore he felt something cosmically shift before he craned his neck forward slightly, inviting Elliott in. His hand rested on the back of his neck, two fingers sliding into his matted raven hair. He could feel his breath on his lips. His stomach flipped. 

The door opened. 

"Silva, are ya okay? I heard noises."

He blushed such a deep shade of crimson there was no way Ajay wouldn't notice. She was brilliant, after all. Elliott cleared his throat.

"He's all good. We're all good. Totally normal and fine." 

"Seems like it." She nodded, the smallest playful glint in her eye. Tav rubbed his hand sheepishly on the back of his neck before wincing. Elliott's head whipped around and he placed a hand on Tav's thigh. 

"I'll be back to check on ya in a bit, Silva. Stay out of trouble," she half-winked as she ducked back out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

"Sor-" Elliott started, clearly embarrassed. But before he could finish, Octavio's mouth was on his, absolutely ravenous and radiating previously unrequited lust. His hand ran up Elliott's inner thigh, eliciting a deliciously heavy exhale.

"We don't have much time, and you're hurt." Elliott pushed a hand on his chest.

"Shut up, I'm always fast," he replied, half-panting into the other man's mouth and using his free hand to tug him downward. Elliott slotted a gentle knee between Octavio's thighs and he bucked his hips, trying to get any kind of friction. He groaned with both pleasure and pain. 

"Tavi," Elliott whispered hoarsely, sending electricity coursing through his veins. 

He moved to pull off Elliott's sweatshirt, but was met with blinding pain. He cried out. 

"Fuck," and it was more of a sob than he had intended. Elliott brushed some hair out of his face, rolling to the side, careful to avoid his wounds. 

"Hey, shh, it's okay," Elliott stroked his hair, leaning close to his ear, pulling it into his mouth and sucking, which absolutely drove Tav wild, "I promise I will still want this when you're healed. Okay?"

And for some reason, be it pain, or anger, or unmet desire, or the fucking nightmares, he lost it. His head dropped forward onto Elliott's chest and he sobbed, breaking Elliott's heart in the process. 

"Tavi," Elliott pulled him as close as he could without causing pain and rubbed his back while he shook. He was always good at hiding his feelings. Even more so when he was wearing his mask. But now, here, all raw emotion and injured and unable to escape his thoughts, he broke. He felt small. Powerless. Weak. All the things he knew he was without Octane, without stim. Without the distraction of a fast-paced bloodsport. 

He honestly wasn't sure how long they had been like that, or when he had fallen asleep. But when he awoke, it was morning. Elliott's arms were still linked around him, and his eyes burned. He moved to wipe at them, which woke Elliott. 

"You okay?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and concern. 

"Mmm." He replied, moving to tuck a stray curl behind Elliott's ear. 

"Do you need anything?"

"You." 

"Seriously, Tav." 

"Seriously, Elliott," he mocked. Elliott shot a disdainful glance which honestly made him laugh. And despite everything, Elliott laughed too. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a timeskip and is now set in the present, s6, whatever you wanna call it.

Their chests heaved in tandem as Elliott intertwined their fingers, planting a kiss on the back of his hand. 

"So fucking good, Tav. Holy shit."

He smirked, "what can I say? I've had practice."

Elliott rolled over, pulling his shirt back over his head, sweat glistening on his back. Octavio reached out to touch the muscles just beside his spine that still twitched from exertion. 

"Your hand doesn't count," he teased, kissing his forehead and escaping toward the kitchen. 

"Fuck you!" He yelled after him, smiling widely.

"Again?" Elliott laughed loudly from the other room. 

He sat up, rubbing his face and pulling his underwear and jeans from the day before back on, opting for shirtlessness. He checked the time. His phone backlight half blinded him in the dark room. He had several missed text messages and a missed call from a blocked number. They left a voicemail, he thought, raising his eyebrows. He was interrupted, though, by Elliott bellowing,

"Hey, you want some coffee? We have a game in an hour."

"Sounds great, hermoso," he returned, scratching the back of his half-shaved head. He shuffled into the kitchen, yawning. Elliott looked up at him, honey-golden eyes dripping with a sweet smile. God, he was in deep. They had been sleeping together for several months now, but hadn't officially discussed their status. Elliott called him his partner, but Tav wasn't one for labels. This bothered Elliott, though he probably wouldn't ever tell him that. 

Tavi snaked his arms around Elliott's waist, earning a warm hum. He placed a series of gentle kisses between his shoulderblades. Elliott turned to face him, offering him the mug of coffee, just the way he liked, four sugars and just enough cream to cut the acidity. 

"Thanks, Ell," Tav blew on the cup to cool it to taste and took a long swig. 

"Of course," Elliott smiled. He was truly one of the most helpful people Tavi had ever met, and kind to a fault. Which was strange, he thought, because he deserved to be terrible. He had been dealt impossible hand after impossible hand in his life, and if Elliott Witt were cruel, nobody would blame him. Instead, he took all of the awful, unfair things that ever happened to him and let them make him kinder. Let them make him a better friend, better lover, better competitor, better person. Tav admired him, really. Tav had a similarly dark history, but he turned to addiction and numbness in lieu of kindness. Feeling nothing was usually easier. Only letting Elliott in was easier. Not even Che knew about the nightmares. He was private. Not Tae Joon private, but nonetheless. If he kept his circle small, it was less people who could hurt him, and less people who he could hurt. Damage control. Nearly everyone in his life had burned him before, and if he was honest, he was sure it wouldn't be long before Elliott did too. After all, for Octavio Silva, all good things must crash and burn. 

"Mmm," Elliott hummed, "did you check your phone? I heard it last night when we were...y'know," he wagged an eyebrow. 

"Yes, cariño, I remember." He could be such a dork sometimes about sex and Tav absolutely loved it. He talked a big game, but he was actually surprisingly inexperienced. On their second encounter, Elliott drunkenly revealed it was only the fourth time he'd ever had sex. He was a long-haul kinda guy. He'd had his small share of flings, but mostly kept to himself outside of small makeout sessions he'd had pre-Tavi. He spent a lot of time wondering if that was for the same reasons as himself: the less people, the less pain. 

He pulled out his phone and propped it against his ear, pressing play on his voicemail.

"Good morning, Mr. Silva. This is Elena. I work for Silva Pharmaceuticals. I'm calling on behalf of your father. He would like me to let you know that he will no longer be providing your stim. He also said that if you get ejected from the games, the only place you can go is the apartment. Not the main house. He did not provide any explanation. Thank you. Have a great day!"

He felt like all the air had been pumped out of him. He swallowed thickly as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. His mouth felt impossibly dry. He pushed back from the counter and flipped through his contacts until he found the one he wanted. Elliott looked on, concern knitting his eyebrows together.

"Babe, are you-"

And before he could even finish, Tavi was speaking Spanish so rapidly, Elliott could hardly tell he was even saying words. He moved from his seat to place a hand on Tavi's shoulder, which was quickly flicked off. Elliott was hurt. Tavi usually wasn't so flippant with him. By the sound of it, he wasn't actually _talking_ to anyone, but leaving what sounded like a very strongly worded message. Soon, he pulled the phone away from his ear. His knuckles were white, gripping it tightly before tossing it to the side. He massaged the heels of his hands over his eyes. 

"Tell them I'm not coming to the games today."

"What? Tav-" he was already pulling on a shirt and collecting a jacket, livid and shaking and moving almost too quickly for Elliott to keep up, "Octavio, Jesus, what happened?"

"Motherfucker cut me off."

"What? Who? What does that even mean?"

"Can't talk about it right now." He set his jaw, planted a small kiss on Elliott's cheek, and headed out the door. Elliott stood, palming where Tav's lips just were, and texted Ajay. He didn't know what else to do.

-

By the time she arrived, they were both going to be late for their game. She knocked on the door, and he opened it a total mess. She put a comforting hand on his arm.

"He'll be fine, Elliott, he always is."

His eyes glistened, "it seemed so different. I've never seen him like that. He was so angry." 

"Did he say anything?"

"Uh, not really. He-he spoke a lot of Spanish. Really fast. And then he said someone cut him off."

Ajay spun to face him again, "he cut him off?"

"That's what he said. I don't know. I don't know what he was talking about."

"Fuck." Come to think of it, Elliott had never heard Ajay swear.

"W-what? What does that mean?"

"His father supplies the stim Tav uses in, and out of, the ring. He didn't tell you this?"

"N-no," Elliott winced, his stutter always worsened when he was anxious. He could feel his heart rate rising, "he doesn't talk about his family much."

Ajay frowned, "that's for the better, trus' me. You knew what I know? You'd wanna kill 'em." 

"So-so where did he go?" Elliott carded a worried hand through his hair.

"I've no idea. But, Ell, we're going to lose our jobs if we don't get to the dropship. Hammond will fry our asses."

"I can't just go. I don't know where he-I don't know wh-" He couldn't tell if it was the stutter or the hyperventilation. Ajay squeezed his arm. They were friends, and had become closer through Tavi. 

"We will go looking for him as soon as we get done. But gettin' fired ain't on my agenda. Let's go." 

She always meant business, and Elliott knew he wasn't convincing her to skip a game. He already knew he would have to pull some serious strings to keep Tav from getting suspended.

-

Both of them somehow finished in the top three, even on separate squads. He had somehow maintained his Mirage composure in the ring, if barely. He hurried back to his apartment without interviews, though, costing him sponsors and almost definitely earning him reprimand from the higher ups. He unlocked the door, holding his breath, hopeful that it all would be over and Tav would be back, sitting in front of the TV, bouncing his leg and playing some video game.

But, no. There was no sign of him. He tried his phone again. And again. And again. Soon, Ajay came over and they set out to look for him. They checked the bar, his favorite restaurants around the compound, even clubs nearby. After a while, Ajay even got in contact with some dealers in the area to see if he had picked up anything from them. Nobody had seen him. He was gone. 

That evening and they still hadn't heard from him. Elliott had left message after anguished message, pleading with him to just come back. 

"So what does it mean if they cut him off?" Elliott rubbed his face in exasperation. 

"It means he'll have to ration whatever stim he has left, especially if he'd like to keep using it in the ring. Does he still use it recreationally?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"D-d'you mean when we have sex?" He asked, blushing a little.

"Not just then. Does he use it outside of the ring at all?"

"I...don't like it when he uses it in the bedroom, but he does, sometimes. And I've caught him sneaking it on weekends. Whe-when there aren't any games for a while. Ajay, is he going to be alright?" 

He chewed his bottom lip until he tasted blood and she sighed.

"Honestly? I dunno. If he really has been cut off, he'll go through withdrawal. I've seen 'im like that before. Ain't pretty." Her accent was even heavier when tired, Elliott noticed. 

"I wish he'd just let me help him." Elliott rubbed his eyes. Ajay wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He looked up at her, shaking his head. 

"I can't lose him, Ajay. I can't l-lose someone else I love." His eyes swam with unshed tears as he stifled a cry. 

"We'll find him, Ell. He always comes back." She kissed the crown of her friend's head gently, comfortingly. 

\--

Two days later, in the middle of the night, someone knocked on Elliott's door. He hadn't been sleeping much unmedicated but had managed to get something from Ajay, who insisted he needed rest. They still hadn't heard from Octavio, and his heart was pounding in his chest, worried that this would be it. This would be the end. He would open the door, and there would be the police, or someone from Hammond, saying they'd found him dead somewhere. It would make sense. That's how everything in Elliott's goddamned life went. Don't get too close, he always warned himself, good things never last for you. Good things are ripped away from you.

Another knock, louder this time. He pulled on sweatpants, tripping slightly, as he padded across the apartment to the door, still groggy from the meds Ajay had given him, he stumbled a bit. 

When he opened the door, he found Tav, leaning against the wall, shaking, pale, and covered in what Elliott could only assume to be vomit. He could hardly meet his eyes. As soon as Elliott looked at him, though, his face contorted and he crumpled forward into his arms. He pulled the door closed so his sobs didn't wake the hallway.

"Oh my god, Tav. Holy shit." Elliott wanted to cry too. From anger, from relief, because of whatever was making Tav like this. 

"I'm so sorry," he slurred, gripping as hard as he could onto Elliott's back, leaving small fingernail marks there. Elliott pulled away just enough to steady Octavio's rolling head in his hand and kiss him on the forehead. He had a fever. He was definitely in withdrawal, and definitely very drunk. Elliott tightened his grip around the smaller man and tried to get him to look at him. 

"Tavi, hey. Hey. Can you look at me?"

"Aren't you mad at me, Elliott?"

His head was still buried in Elliott's chest, still heavily sobbing and shaking. 

"Tav. Hey. I'm not mad. Please just look at me." He was lying, he was mad. But that didn't matter right now. 

"I don't deserve you," Tav played with his fingers, hovering over Elliott's chest and stifling a sob. 

"What do you mean?"

Tavi shoved him backward now, his eyes darkening.

"Why aren't you mad? You should be furious. You should break up with me. You should leave me for dead. I'm better off dead."

Elliott did start crying then, trying to grab Tav's hand or shoulder or jacket, or anything. He looked like hell. 

"Octavio, you are not better off dead."

"You should be mad at me!" He yelled, knocking a vase off the console table beside him and choking out an angry sob. 

"Of course I should! You left me with no fucking warning and disappeared for days! You didn't tell me anything, Tavi. I thought you were fucking-," he stopped himself and reached for the younger man's face. Tavi grabbed his hands.

"Hit me."

"What?" Elliott asked incredulously.

" _Hit me!_ " Tavi screamed, turning even redder in the face than he already was, "Like this, Elliott. I'll show you. You just- you just take your hand, and, punch. Go ahead." He was hyperventilating, clearly having an anxiety attack, miming hitting himself with Elliott's hands. Thankfully, he was too weak for them to hurt him at least physically.

"Please, Elliott."

"I'm not gonna hit you," he sobbed, "I'm not. I'm not like him, Tav. You don't deserve it." 

Elliott knew he probably shouldn't have brought up his dad. Octavio braced himself on the back of the sofa, breathing becoming rapid and irregular. Elliott tried again to reach for him, and this time, he didn't stop him. Elliott slipped his jacket off, then his shirt, until he could pull him close, feeling his clammy skin against his own. 

"Just come here. Come here."

Tavi's robotic knees gave out on him. Years of pent up grief and trauma came flooding out. Once he started, once the dam was broken, there was no stopping. Elliott just sat there, holding him, for upwards of an hour, soothing him, kissing him wherever he could, while Tavi broke down. Elliott swore if he ever met Tavi's dad he would kill him, Ajay was right. If it was one thing Tav didn't deserve, it was this. This opaque sadness. This immeasurable weight. 

Finally, sweaty and sputtering, Tavi looked at Elliott.

"I'm so sorry, Elliott. I never meant," he hiccuped, and Elliott wiped a stray tear from his face, still hanging onto every word, "I never meant to hurt you. I swear to god. I love you. I fucking love you, Elliott Witt. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I promise it isn't the alcohol, or the withdrawal, either. I'm so good at running away. My whole life has been one long escape con. I never had anything to come back for, but you. God, El, you. I couldn't stop thinking about you. And not just the sex, either, although you are mind-blowing. I just. You make me feel like I'm worth something. I fucking love you, El. So much. I'm so sorry," He planted several rushed kisses on Elliott's cheeks and forehead and temple before settling on his lips and straddling his lap. 

"Tav, hey, hang on," he brushed his hand along his cheek. He met Tav's eyes. He was still crying, but not nearly as hard. He was at least semi-coherent now, "I love you too, Octavio. So damn much. I don't care about your family, or your past, or Octane, I love you. Octavio Silva. I fell in love with you. Nothing else matters. And this whole thing with your stim? We'll figure it out. I would fight God themself if it means I get to keep you as long as possible." And then, "don't ever leave me like that again." He pulled him into a bruising hug. 

"Thank you, El," Tav leaned on his shoulder, having dismounted from his lap. They had forever for that. Elliott placed a comforting kiss to the back of his hand. 

"I love you," he said. He liked saying it. He had known since that first night after the prowler attack that Elliott was it for him. He didn't need anything else. Anyone else. He didn't have to be Octane with Elliott, he could just be Octavio. Elliott made him feel things he hadn't ever felt before. He wanted to get clean, start a family, adopt a bunch of animals and live on a farm somewhere. He wanted to grow old and die in his arms, his family be damned. He spent so long trying to run from everybody, to hide from everybody, but not anymore. He knew who he was. He was Octavio Silva. And that was enough. 


End file.
